


Fuck Mother Nature

by Al_D_Baran



Series: Dark Voltron Fics [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha Shiro (Voltron), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Blood and Gore, Bodily Fluids, Cervix Penetration, Disappointing, Gore, Intersex, M/M, Mild Gore, Monsters, Not Beta Read, Omega Keith (Voltron), Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Oviposition, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Tentacles, dont do it, thats apparently not a tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 09:56:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10435170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Al_D_Baran/pseuds/Al_D_Baran
Summary: It’s more like “Mother Nature will fuck you”, actually.(Mother Nature’s a whore. A big fat whore.)"And when he dreams of a flower bursting out of his abdomen, he feels like he’s avoided the worst but he still feels like a monster’s made his nest inside his ribcage."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who’s gross and also sick in both meanings? It is I. Enjoy this self-indulgent ovi. Yes I like my Omegas with vaginas. Get your ass babies away from me. Unbeta’d because I’d rather not subject anybody to look at this.

They’re chasing a Galra commander across a lush jungle when they decide it’s better to separate, to have more chances to find them. Keith grunted as he slashes through the thick vegetation, walking around the black leaves as he wipes his forehead. The red sun makes it so everything is darker, coupled with the black foliage, it almost feels like night in this forest.

He doesn’t think they’ll find the Galra or their base but he takes off his helmet eventually. His hair is stuck and mated to his forehead from the sweat. Keith feels like taking off some of the armour that makes his suit cling to his skin, but decides against it, even if the pauldrons are making rivers run down his back.

Great. Just great.

They’re not even running after an important commander. It’s just a delusional ass who hopes Zarkon will give him a place next to him, in his high command, if he manages to catch Voltron. Except it took them a few minutes to shot down his ship and now.., he’s hiding there. And they can’t let him go because he has valuable intelligence according to Allura.

Keith doubts he has any but the one they’re looking for could definitely help them.

And so he walks amongst the leaves and vines, the sound of faraway animals who flee long before he sees them. Sometimes he can see the reflection of a creature’s eyes from the darkness of bushes but soon after, it scurries away. Birds leave before he can see them properly too, leaving in a rustle of feathers and canopy.

He’s staring at what seems to be one of them that has yet to flee, fascinated by the bright colours—

Keith takes out his bayard as he falls over, seeing it shifts to a sword in front of his eyes. He curses himself as his helmet bounces out of his reach, expecting to see the stout commander, yet, there’s nothing. Nothing but a thick, black vine wrapped around his feet.

Fuck.

Is he in a cheesy adventure movie? It’s gripping him tight. It feels around his thigh and leg, another reaching from under the black soil to dive right between his legs. Keith gasps, pulling it away as it nudges at his cunt through the suit, feeling his cheeks heat up. It comes back, nudges harder…

What.

_What._

“Wha— _what the fuck_?” he stammers, slamming his sword over the vine, trying to dash away, to get to his helmet but the liana grips him again tighter, apparently sentient enough to understand the bayard is dangerous and knocks it out of his grasp. It flies a dozen feet, slicing through a dark tree like its butter. It’s gone.

Keith panics now, gripping at the vines that start pulling him away. They’re holding too tight, secreting something that sticks to his thighs. He grabs at the black soil under him, making ridges in it. The strong vines lift him up roughly, yanking him to the top of a tree. He hits the bark as he gesticulates, falling in and out of consciousness for a whole minute as he’s hoisted up to a high branch. The plant has wrapped itself all around him now, he notices with panicked breaths. His wrists are tied tightly and…

In front of him, there’s what seems to be a plant. It looks like a corpse flower – it smells just like sewers, too –, unwrapping delicately like a cloak and inside is an odd-looking alien, see-through with vividly coloured organs. It vaguely looks like a curvy woman, with breasts-like appendages on its upper body, lower body parting in two large roots, looking like the thick thighs. Keith tries to fight still as he’s brought forward to the clawed being, it lifts up its hands, with four long, bony fingers on each of them. Its skin feels like leather as its vines touch him again.

When one touches between his legs again, Keith understands there’s no mistaking in the intentions as he prodded at, the armour he hated before cracked and thrown out, legs yanked apart when he tries to squeeze them closed. The many globular eyes of the plant look at him as its vines tear the seat of his pants, revealing his genitals. It makes a displeased sound, a vine prodding at his ass as the many tentacular-limbs latch to trees around, keeping him presented, legs wide apart, bound so tightly he can’t even move an inch as he trashes.

Keith stares over his shoulder, struggling still even if he barely sways now, fighting against his arms, now tied over his lower back. The alien can see all of him – ass, cunt, cock… Keith feels shameful even if he’s been dragged there, tied up and feels his mind walls itself up. He can’t think of what’ll happen next. He’s not sure his stomach would be able to take it – or his mind itself, for that matter.

The alien’s soft body parts down as it rises to him, a large, long organ with a hole at the spear-like tip coming out of a sheath between the legs-like stems. Keith feels the bile leave him with a heave. He begs before he can help himself, eyes fixated on the weird cock – it’s thinner than it looks, with large bulbs then smaller necks, large, smaller, large, smaller… It’s too big. It looks like it’ll hurt. It’ll hurt.

He feels the tip at his entrance, hears himself say no as he pulls away, and it’s – tearing him open, he gasps, feeling his body heat up at the pain of the penetration – he can feel his cunt _actually fucking tear_ from that alone. It can only go a few inches in before it pulls back, the alien making a pleased little noise. Keith sobs – he’s so disgusted he feels himself heave again but nothing comes out, so tightly bound so he barely rocks against the thrusts. It hurts. The larger parts are forced inside and he cries out, shaking in pain each time his cervix is hit.

His body betrays him suddenly, cunt wetting around the intruder. Keith tastes snot in his mouth, closes his eyes. This doesn’t make sense. Maybe it does. Maybe this creature was just waiting for something with a womb to walk close to it – him. An Omega. He weeps softly, hissing as he feels it slam deep inside, letting out a scream as it pierces it. There’s a trickle of blood on his thighs he notices, along with rivers of slick. Keith doesn’t want to think about it. There’s a fluid of an off-putting green colour he doesn’t know and a smell. The sewer smell of earlier, only stronger.

Something rotten.

Pain makes his mind stop entirely, as if something bigger is pushing inside him. Keith cries out, trying to bring his legs together, hearing a litany of _no_ he didn’t know he was still saying, choking on his own breath as _something_ impossibly large is forced through. The pain blinds him, shielding him from the world until it subsides slowly. Keith hangs limply in his restraint now, sniffling pathetically, blinking the tears away…

There’s a bulge to his stomach now and he understands now.

That’s not a – going through him, it’s a –  

It’s an ovipositor.

This alien is using him to lie its eggs inside of him and. Keith looks at it again, from between his legs, notices something… something _odd_ under the large flower the alien’s sprouting out of. It’s a decaying corpse, maggots and insects running all over it as the body returns to the nature it had probably invaded, the smell that was reminding him of sewers being its advanced decomposition. It’s growing right from its abdomen, the liquefied, putrefied body’s… middle section.

The dots aren’t hard to connect. The same thing’s happened to this unlucky guy and – and they died like this and—

There’s the same pain again as another egg pushes through his cervix. Keith hadn’t imagined the pain could be so unbearable but each times the alien manages to push another egg inside of him. Keith wonders why it needs so many before stopping – maybe many will die. The rotten smell around him makes him think of them rotting inside of him, inside his womb – it makes him just as panicked as to think of a plant ripping through him.

He still has his knife, he thinks, grimly.

He can take them out.

_Take them all out._

The pushes draw out for a moment as he hangs, refusing to count, trying to focus on something else. Calculus at the Garrison. Chi-squared distribution. Hypothesis. Confidence intervals. Statistics. Calculating the distance between a star to another, the number of parsecs between Canis Majoris and Cassiopeia.

He enumerates the stars of Orion’s Belt, “Alnitak – Zeta Orionis –, Alnilam – Espilon Orionis –, Mintaka – Delta Orionis...” He remembers what these stars mean, everything he’s learn in the history they taught them at the Academy. The religious symbols, the legend. Orion, the giant hunter, so tall that when he stood at the bottom of the ocean, he would only be submerged to his shoulders. Orion, who was killed by Artemis’ arrow, tricked by her brother Apollo, who told his sister it was a monster. Orion, whom Artemis felt so terrible to have killed, placed him in the sky with his two dogs, Sirius and Procyon, who now are the names of stars inside its constellation.

He counts the stars of Andromeda in his head.

Counts the Cygnus. Reminds himself of nebulas and how they appear – isolates himself in the astronomy, tries to forget the world around him.

He can’t think of his knife.

Not too much. Not now.

Aldebaran’s circumferences come to his mind when he feels the pain again, coming through his stars-filled exile.

He can only leave it when he stars to be lowered to the ground, the many eyes of the alien watching him. When the vines leave his limbs, he slumps to the ground with a wheeze, a choked cry leaving his throat as he tries to curl into a ball, stopped by his distended stomach. He stares at it with another heave. Keith hates the way it looks – hates what’s inside even more. His thighs are a mess of blood, Omega slick and that green fluid. It smells very odd. He feels betrayed by something invisible, something inside of him.

Keith’s hands shake when he reaches for his knife, finding its nowhere around. He pats his sides but – he must have lost it. A dangerous feeling of emptiness fills him, enters through every holes of his skin as he stars to hyperventilate, standing up even when the world spins and his body protest every moves, his legs pulls and hurt, everywhere is abraded and salted, as if he’s been whipped over his entire body. He’s empty of thoughts, wanders without purpose and yet filled with pain, the visceral need to find his knife, to take away what’s been forcefully put inside.

Like someone would have placed a real ticking bomb inside of him. He can feel the eggs moving and it makes him panic each time. There’s no way to tell when they will hatch. There’s no way to tell how long that creature was up there, how long it takes for it to kill him, _Alien_ -style. There’s just no time to look for that tiny knife now.

He imagines the monster bursting out of him, feeling like a ticking bomb.

There’s the imaginary tic-toc of a watch inside his mind, like a tell-tale heart under floodboards.

Maybe his sword would do, Keith thinks, searches for it then – it’s in a tree, he knows, it’s red amongst all the black of the foliage. It should be easy to find.

“Keith!”

The Omega startles so much he drops down, unable to find his balance now that his body gained width so quickly and traumatically, stares up to see Shiro. Being seen reminds him of what just happened and Shiro’s grey eyes look at him with – incomprehension, hurt, guilt. No. Shiro can’t see him like this, not before he’s found his knife. He grips his stomach even if he _can’t_ look at it, digs his nails in the suit’s lycra-like material, refuses to look at Shiro.

He can’t do this.

“I need my knife,” he says right away, surprising Shiro enough with his hunched-up posture, breathless, staring at Shiro like he can offer him one, another one. Any knife doesn’t matter.

“Keith?” Shiro kneels next to him, places his arms on his and he pulls away. “Keith, you’re… you’re hurt, I can smell it, what’s—“ Shiro’s always the perfect Alpha – he doesn’t try to touch him again, hands hovering around him, trying to pinpoint where the smell of blood comes from without prodding, smelling the distress as he smells like guilt and Keith thinks it could kill him if it wasn’t to urgent.

No time to lose. The picture of that alien corpse comes back to him, the smell of rotten flesh –

It could come out any moment. There was no time to lose. Nothing told him that alien needed breeders to inject its little parasites in – maybe it’s just less troubles for it to use his cunt for that. If there’s nothing else around, Keith doubts it’ll encumber itself to look for another womb-bearer to slither its vines in. There’s no time to lose.

He looks up, squeezing himself hard enough to bruise, knowing it will, finding a twisted comfort in it. There’s panic in his voice, hoarse from crying so much as he asks – he hears the begging in the tone belatedly –, “I’ve been attacked, Shiro – Takashi, please, I’ve got to – it’s laid eggs inside me, inside my – inside my womb, and it’s gonna, it’s gonna burst out and try to find someone else, I, please, we need—“

“Keith, Keith, baby,” Shiro stops him, taking his face between his hands to look at him, the meaning of the words sinking into him before he looks down. The distended stomach. Keith risks a look down too, whines when he sees he’s grown large there, fat and bloated and it looks outlandish on his still wiry frame. “I’ll request extraction now, okay? The Princess or – she and Coran will be there in just a few minutes, let’s—“

“No!” What does Shiro think? There’s no time to lose. “We can’t wait that long! I don’t know how long it’ll take, it’s going to kill me, I’ve gotta find my knife and – and take them out of me!” He needs them out. He needs to see the eggs out of him, he needs to crush them as a revenge. They need to be out. Out.

_Out. Out. Out. Out of him._

“That thing had grown out of a corpse’s abdomen and it was all rotten, it’s… it’s dangerous! It could be common, it could attack Lance or Pidge or Hunk, or even you when it – Takashi, please…” Keith feels his bottom lip shake, “I don’t wanna die,” he admits suddenly, rediscovering the visceral fear of earlier, gripping Shiro’s strong forearms with a choked sob. “Please, I need them out, _please_ … we can’t wait.”

There’s a silence and Keith fears Shiro will ignore him when he presses the communication on his helmet, choosing the Castle Ship’s private frequency. “Princess,” he calls, voice tight. Keith begs still but he’s laid down, stares at his stomach as it hides most of his lower body. Yet he can still see some of his thighs, the ripped suit still holding tight where it’s been torn, squishing the skin, soiled in green and red and dirt. “I have to request immediate extraction, something’s attacked Keith and… he’s hurt.”

Shiro blinks. His hand comes alive in blinding lilac light and Keith can feel the heat radiating from it inches away from his clothes skin. He swallows but there’s relief mixed with the apprehension, fear of pain long forgotten as Shiro rips the suit to dig in. The pain is so strong it’s barely registered at first – Keith’s mouth opens in a scream but he doesn’t scream, not really. He chokes on it, hears Shiro speak of a parasite.

Asks for them both to be taken first. For someone to get the others, separate pods, nobody in the cryopods room when they come on the ship.

No one but him, Keith, Coran or the Princess.

Needs to be quick.

Life or death.

Bleeding out.

Keith grips his forearm, tries to thank him, sees the guilt in Shiro’s eyes…

“Oh God.”

He can’t say more, he croaks it out like it’s a last breath. The eggs are as large as they felt, viscous and red, mottled like predators. There’s…

One… Two. Three. Four. Five.

Keith thought there was a million, watches feverishly as Shiro crushes them and it brings him an intense satisfaction to look at the green, juicy innards of the eggs cover the black grass under them. The pain becomes too much for his body eventually, and his head lolls away, the burns so grievous they’ve turned to black and white. When he looks down again, he’s lying in a pool of blood and Shiro cauterized his wounds.

“Don’t move,” Shiro tells him, gathers him in his arms like a porcelain doll and kisses his forehead. Keith feels his hair stick to his forehead, shaking from blood loss. “You’re going to be fine. They’re out and you’re gonna be fine.” He’s on Shiro’s knees, body covered in grime and some dirt clinging to his thighs and stomach, Shiro’s arm.

He rocks him tenderly – Shiro’s smell is still bitter and yet so sweet, but Keith can believe he’s going to be safe now, leaning his forehead against Shiro’s collarbone, watching the pod zip across the sky, eyes slipping closed.

He’s gonna be fine.

.

.

.

When Keith walks out of the pod, it’s like nothing has happened to him. His stomach is back to normal, like nothing ever happened, if for the faint mark of a scar that, according to Allura, will fade away. It’s pale and barely shows anyway, all white and everything inside is apparently fine.

It’s like nothing’s happened.

Even if the bruises have all been healed, Keith can still feel the vines gripping him. Feels his own breaths choke him at night. The nightmares can’t disappear with a stay in a magic pod and Keith feels it burdening him, like rocks have replaced what’s been in him before, sewn into his stomach to keep him sinking into a pitch black, cold river.

They remind him that something’s happened.

That he’s not gonna be fine.

And when he dreams of a flower bursting out of his abdomen, he feels like he’s avoided the worst but he still feels like a monster’s made his nest inside his ribcage.

And then, there’s Shiro.

“It won’t be easy,” Shiro murmurs against his hair, rubbing smooth circles over his back, covering him, wrapping him in his comforting scent. “But you’ll be better in times. I’ll be there to do everything I can to help.”

And Shiro knows trauma. A faceless enemy he can’t attack heads on.

But when it’s late and Shiro just holds him because he considers him precious, Keith finds himself believing it again and decides that he can let time try to help him, too.

He’s gonna be fine.

He hopes.

At least, he still has hope. If he has that and Shiro, he might really be just as alright as Shiro promises him he can be again.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are better than kudos.  
> Interesting week in the fandom hasn't it been?  
> A big thanks to my friend who pointed out my first attempt sounded weird and guided me in an hopefully better direction.  
> Stay tuned for some non-con klance for the next part of this serie whenever I'm not a lazy piece of shit.  
> Comments oil my lazy, gross gears. I might do a follow up because... I love Suffering.


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